


The Jim and Bones Show V -- Arrival of the Mothership

by Space_AgeScribe



Series: The Jim and Bones Show [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crew as Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_AgeScribe/pseuds/Space_AgeScribe
Summary: Dr Leonard McCoy knew things were about to go wrong when a woman with curly blonde hair shows up in Jim's life. He just had no idea how bad things would get. Really, is it too much to ask for a full night's sleep? Modern AU.





	The Jim and Bones Show V -- Arrival of the Mothership

**Author's Note:**

> For once, this Jim and Bones Show story was not conceived while washing the dishes. Thanks to several readers for the general queries about when this story would appear. It's nice to know that people want to read more of my work. Apologies for the swears that slip out of the characters' mouths in this story, but I hope you'll forgive them as they've had a bad few days. Enjoy!

"Good God, man! Do we need to buy you goggles?" Leonard McCoy asked as he watched Jim Kirk deftly dodge a squirt of lemon as he tried to juice it. The audience laughed at the face Jim made in response.

"Bones, in addition to being a chef, I also moonlight as a ninja," Jim said authoritatively. He was sure the microphones clearly picked up Leonard's snort of derision.

Tossing aside the husk of the lemon, Jim quickly whisked the lemon juice into a mixture of eggs, sugar, and cream that would soon make up the guts of a  _tarte au citron_. Nyota had coached him on the proper French pronunciation of the term before the taping, so he hadn't mangled it too badly in his Iowa accent.

Jim tipped the bowl toward the camera so the audience could see how the mixture should look, then looked up at the crowd.

Leonard was probably the only person who noticed the slight pause in Jim's delivery. For just a moment, the chef froze. Before he could be thrown too far off his game, McCoy kicked his foot behind the counter to get him to focus.

Jim immediately shook himself out of his reverie. Almost too quickly, he added in the lemon zest and then waited for a cameraman to come around the counter to show how to pour the mixture into the pan while it sat on middle shelf of the oven. In moments, he was moving on to the next thing.

Leonard filed away Jim's pause for later questioning.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Usually, Dr. Leonard McCoy skipped the meet-and-greets held after each taping of Jim's cooking show in favor of actually doing something useful, like being a doctor, but today something kept him at his friend's side even after his presence was no longer required. Something wasn't right.

The reception went as it always did: audience members lined up to take a photo with Jim or meet (read: flirt) with him. As usual, Jim charmed every last one of them, posing for selfies with the mostly-female audience and patiently shaking their hands and listening to them gush about his show. He had even dutifully signed, with a bemused smile, a head-shot of Ryan Reynolds that some misguided soul had brought.* Leonard tried not to roll his eyes in view of any audience members. He was pretty sure a couple of them even tried to cop a feel as Jim posed with them for photos, which Jim managed to dodge. There was no question that the kid certainly knew how to work a room.

Jim turned back after saying something to Spock to greet the last person in the queue. He froze with his hand partially raised for a handshake.

Leonard's eyes immediately snapped up to a blonde woman with curly hair.

"Well, it looks like my little Jimmy is all grown up," she said, sounding amused.

Jim remained frozen. Leonard and Spock immediately stepped closer.

The woman frowned. "What's the matter, Sweetheart? You can't even say hi to your mom?"

~oOoOoOoOo~

Leonard decided to turn on the radio before the darkness and silence of the car became too hypnotic. He jumped as the Beastie Boys came blaring out of his car's speakers. Damn it, Jim had obviously been playing his music when he'd last been in the car. Quickly, Leonard changed the settings to a classical music station on the radio and turned his attention back to the road.

Jim had only stuttered when his mom approached him at the end of the show's meet-and-greet. He had flinched and then stood stiffly as she hugged him, not returning the gesture. She had looked genuinely sad when Jim had continued to just look at her.

"I'm in town for a few days, yet. Here's my number," she said, holding out a slip of paper. When Jim made no move to take it, Leonard had snatched it out of her hand with more aggression than necessary.

Sensing she wasn't welcome, she had smiled a small smile at the group and left. Her timing was impeccable – Spock had been within seconds of physically tossing her from the premises.

It had been clear for as long as Leonard had known Jim that he and his mother had a tumultuous relationship. Jim had always been very tight-lipped about his past, but from what Leonard could gather from the small clues in Jim's stories and behaviors, his childhood and early adult years hadn't been pleasant. Jim rarely mentioned his family, and Leonard could only guess that his deep-seated insecurities – the feeling that he would never be good enough for anyone, no matter what he did – must have been rooted in Jim's early home life.

Leonard had always wondered what he would say if he ever met Mrs. Kirk, and even now he still wasn't sure. Could the woman even comprehend the negative effect she'd had on Jim's life?

After today's incident, Jim had quietly told Leonard and Spock that he was going to skip hanging out with the crew and head home, leaving without saying good-bye to the rest of the crew who had gathered in the breakroom with the day's leftovers.

"Want me to drive you home?" Leonard had asked as Spock headed toward the back of the studio.

"No thanks, Bones. I'm good. I'm just going to head home for a bit of peace and quiet," Jim said with a small smile, slapping the doctor on the shoulder without his usual vigor.

"Where's Jim?" Nyota had asked Leonard as soon as he walked in to the breakroom a few minutes later.

Leonard and Spock had exchanged a brief glance. Leonard decided he had better field this one to protect Jim's privacy. Sometimes Spock had no sense of propriety.

"He headed home," he said. "I think he was pretty beat." Spock raised an eyebrow at the fudging of the truth, but thankfully, didn't open his mouth.

"Really? He seemed fine earlier," Scotty mentioned as he made a sandwich out of some of the leftovers from the show.

The last time Jim had missed hanging out with his crew after a show was when he had an allergic reaction during taping and had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance. Nyota looked ready to open her mouth again, so Leonard beat her to the punch. "I can drop some leftovers by his place later if you've got a box or something." Nyota and Sulu set about finding an extra container, and their line of questioning was dropped.

And so it was that Leonard found himself driving over to Jim's house at 8 p.m. on a Thursday night, the piece of lemon tart riding shotgun in the passenger seat.

There was also an unopened bottle of bourbon sitting on the floor of the car.

For once, he was able to find a parking spot right outside Jim's apartment building. It was an old brick building from the early 20th century that had been converted into apartments. Jim's was on the second floor and was decorated in a surprisingly tasteful manner for a hick from Iowa. Leonard was pretty sure Nyota and Gaila had something to do with it.

Before grabbing everything from the car, Leonard quickly texted Jim. The kid's doorbell didn't work and he'd never bothered to get it fixed. Although Leonard had Jim's spare key in case the idiot locked himself out, he didn't want to impose himself on his friend without warning.

_Hey asshole, I'm outside with food and decent booze. Are you going to let me in?_

The doctor grabbed everything from the car and made his way to the front door of the building. As he waited, he absently chewed his lip as he thought about what he would do if Jim said no or ignored him.

A moment later, his thoughts were interrupted by several thumps followed by the door being yanked open.

"Bones!" Jim said with a smile that looked forced.

Leonard held up the bottle and lemon tart. "I come bearing gifts."

Jim's eyes darted behind Leonard. Satisfied that no one else was there, he stood back. "Come in. You know how to sweet talk me."

Leonard noticed that Jim double-checked to make sure the building's front door was locked before bouncing up the stairs. Leonard followed at a much more dignified pace.

"I hope I'm not disturbing ya," he said as he followed Jim into the apartment. Once again, the chef checked the locks on the door. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Leonard. Normally, Jim wasn't this paranoid.

"No, not at all," Jim said with false cheer.

"I hope you've had more to eat than just this," Leonard said as he handed over the tart.

Jim shrugged but didn't look up. Leonard knew Jim well enough to know that he didn't want to admit that he hadn't eaten. Often, when he was busy or upset, Jim just forgot. Honestly, Leonard sometimes wondered how the kid had survived this far into adulthood.

"Jim, you have to eat something else, too," Leonard said in his no-nonsense-dad voice.

Jim sighed dramatically and refused to admit even to himself how much it warmed his heart when someone actually cared about his well-being.

"Hey, Bones. You already have dinner?"

Leonard shrugged. "I ate some of that Mediterranean salad you made today, but I could eat something."

Jim wrinkled his nose. "Vegetables don't hold you long. I'll make us a little something."

The doctor opened his mouth to insist that Jim didn't have to cook for them, but then snapped it shut again. Cooking came as naturally to Jim as breathing, and it was his way of relaxing and looking after other people. The kid needed to be moving or he'd get lost in his own head. "Fine," Leonard grumbled, "but nothing too fancy."

"Of course not," Jim scoffed as he examined the contents of his refrigerator and then began digging through the cabinets.

Leonard shook his head. He was pretty sure their definitions of 'not too fancy' varied greatly.

For the next half hour, Jim diced, sautéed, and stirred as he prepared, in his mind, a simple meal. Neither man spoke, Jim finding solace in the familiar rhythm of cooking and Leonard happy to sit back in silence and watch Jim in his element.

They kept the conversation light as they ate. Afterward, Jim made them coffees– at times it took Leonard by surprise how civilized an Iowa farm boy could be, set of espresso cups and all.

Jim dug into the tart with gusto, with Leonard managing to sneak one bite before Jim threatened to stab him with a fork. Once dessert was finished, Leonard broke open the seal on the bourbon.

Both men made appreciative – almost inappropriate – sounds when they tasted it. "Oh, lordy," Leonard said after savoring a mouthful as he held the glass up to the light.

"That's some good stuff," Jim sighed appreciatively. He may have had to teach Bones about food, but damn, the man had impeccable taste in booze.

"You gonna give your mom a call?" Leonard asked after they had both swirled the bourbon in their glasses for a while.

Jim sighed and slouched down farther into the couch. "I don't know what to do."

Leonard had plenty of thoughts on Winona Kirk's mothering skills and the impact they'd had on Jim over the years, but for once he bit his tongue without speaking his mind. As much as he wanted to tell the kid to forget her, he knew that wasn't fair – she was Jim's mother. Even as a successful adult, a part of Jim would always be yearning for her love and approval.

Instead, Leonard simply offered: "Well, do you think you'd regret it later if something happened to either of you and you hadn't talked to her?"

Jim didn't answer but sat staring into the middle distance, absently swirling the contents of his glass. Leonard sat quietly, watching his friend think through his conundrum. It frustrated him that there was nothing he could do to make this situation any easier for Jim. Regardless of how things progressed, he was already sure that it would be up to him to pick up the pieces when this was all over.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Jim glanced at the clock as he prepared what should be the final few entrees of the night. He was tired. Not in the "it's-been-busy-but-good" way, but in a bone-weary way. He wanted nothing more than to walk away, go home, and curl up on the couch, but he still had a dinner service to finish and then some book-keeping to deal with before he could go home for the night. As much as Gaila and Nyota tried to ease his burden with the business, there were some things that only he, as the restaurant's owner, could do.

Speak of the devil. Jim groaned inwardly as Gaila walked into the kitchen. As much as he loved her, her appearance in the kitchen at this time of night usually meant that someone up front wanted to talk to him.

"What is it?" he asked tiredly.

Gaila noticed his tone and looked him over. "There's a customer who wants to talk to you. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think she wants to complain about anything."

Thank goodness for small mercies. Usually, Jim was a people person and enjoyed talking to customers, but he just didn't want to deal with this tonight. He sighed. "I'm kind of busy right now."

Gaila folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow as Jim stood unusually idle at his station as the server whisked away the final plates of the evening.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But if I have to listen to this woman whine, it's your fault."

Jim stalked through the kitchen toward the front of house. Gaila frowned at his back, unsure of what had set off Jim tonight.

Jim pushed through the door leading to the front of the restaurant with more force than necessary, causing him to make an awkward reach for the door to keep it from slamming. That wasn't the sort of entrance he wanted to make in front of his customers.

Scanning the dining room, he noted that everyone seemed happy enough as they enjoyed their dinners.

"There," Gaila said, pointing at a table for two along one wall. Jim saw the blonde hair and his shoulders fell. Foregoing a pat on the backside to get him going, Gaila gave him a gentle push forward. "Go," she said. "That woman has had lots of questions about you and the restaurant. She doesn't seem like a crazy fan, though."

"Oh, she's crazy enough," Jim muttered, but it was too late to turn around. Several of the diners had noticed the celebrity chef, and the murmuring grew louder. Great, now he was going to have to run the gauntlet of well-wishers rather than just getting this confrontation over with. At least they were in public.

Pasting a smile onto his face, he stopped by tables to shake hands and ask whether the diners had enjoyed their meals. He had to admit that the praise was much-needed right now. Too soon, he reached his mother's table, approaching with dread the one person in the room who should have been the most supportive of all.

"Hello, Jimmy."

"Mom, I quit going by that name a long time ago."

She looked put out. "What's wrong with Jimmy? You've always been Jimmy to me."

Jim clenched his jaw. "That's what Frank used to call me, for one."

Winona waved her hand dismissively. "The dinner was good, although I though the fish could have used a bit more salt. And the chocolate mousse could be a bit sweeter."

"Thanks, I'll take that under advisement," Jim muttered.

"I'm in town until Tuesday if you want to get together," his mother offered.

"Okay," Jim said. "I have to get back to the kitchen."

Without saying good-bye, he turned and headed toward the back of the restaurant with a determined stride. As he passed Gaila, he ground out, "Comp her meal," before smashing back through the doors into the sanctuary of his kitchen. With a vengeance, he began cleaning up his station. His jaw was clenched the entire time.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Leonard sighed in contentment as he sat down in the doctors' lounge with a cup of good coffee, courtesy of the fancy new coffee machine that had recently appeared along with a regular supply of real coffee beans.

"Do you need a moment alone with that?" Christine asked, eyebrows raised, as she watched Leonard savor his drink.

"No," he said. "Just appreciating the one thing that has gone right in my life."

Pike snorted as he got his own cup of coffee. "Yeah, this new coffee machine sure is a god-send. I wonder where it came from," he said in a tone that suggested he wasn't actually wondering at all.

Leonard shrugged but kept his eyes lowered and his mouth shut.

"You know," Christine said conversationally, "I wonder if it has any connection to that anonymous donor who bought all of the toys and PlayStations for the children's ward."

"You know, I'll bet it does," Pike said as he stirred sugar into his coffee. "Isn't it funny how all of these nice things started appearing right about the same time we forced Leonard to go onto Jim's show?"

"I have no idea what you two are talking about," Leonard said, draining his cup quicker than he'd intended, wanting to get out of here before they blew his cover. As a doctor, it wasn't like he needed the extra income from appearing on TV. The looks on the kids' faces were more than worth it, especially the kids who would be in the hospital for a long time.

"As a token of our gratitude for the excellent coffee, we won't divulge your dirty little secret," Christine promised.

"I still don't know what you're talking about!" he called sarcastically over his shoulder as he headed back out into the hallway.

"Love you, Leonard!" Christine called after him sweetly. McCoy just grumbled and headed back to work. He hated it when his coffee break was ruined.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Jim approached his front door with trepidation. This time it wasn't Bones waiting with some good booze. This time it was his mother.

Jim had spent all of last night thinking about what Bones had said, about whether he would have any regrets if something happened to his mother with the way things stood now. So, he had called her between lunch and dinner services and invited her over to his home for coffee later that night. It was as innocuous as he could make it without meeting her in public.

"Mom," he acknowledged quietly as he opened the door.

She stood smiling and holding a white box. "I brought some cookies from a nice little bakery down the street from my hotel."

He swallowed. That was probably the most thoughtful thing she'd done for him in years.

"It's a nice place you've got here, Jimmy," she said as she entered and took in her surroundings.

The chef sighed quietly in defeat. No matter what, he couldn't convince his mother to stop calling him that. Maybe to her, the name reminded him of when he was a little boy; to him, all he could hear was the sneer as it left Frank's lips.

He shook himself out of his reverie and asked, "Do you still take your coffee with cream?"

"Is there any other way?" she joked.

Jim set her coffee on the table in front of her and went back to the kitchen for his own cup. When he came back in, his mother had her eyes closed and was inhaling the steam from the cup. "This is wonderful coffee, Jim. You have good taste."

He shrugged. "Food  _is_ what I do for a living."

His mother hummed her agreement. "Yes, dinner the other night was very good. I thought culinary school might be a passing phase, but you've managed to find a good job with it."

 _Gee, thanks. Do you even realize that I don't just cook at Enterprise, that I'm a businessman who_ owns  _that restaurant?_  he thought to himself, but couldn't bring to say out loud. Instead, he just said, "Well, there's a reason someone decided to put me on TV."

Winona sat forward awkwardly and fiddled with her cup for a moment. "I've missed talking to you on your birthday," she said quietly.

Really? She missed it when her son called once a year? Was she incapable of picking up a phone or sending an e-mail?

"Mom," he said impatiently, "You're the only person who makes your child call you on his own birthday."

"It's not an easy day," Winona said, as if that explained everything.

 _Way to make your own child feel loved_ , Jim thought with pursed lips. It had been decades now, and Winona still used the same old excuse. Thankfully, Bones didn't seem to mind that his own mother had all but adopted Jim. Ever since he had met Bones, Eleanor had always sent Jim a birthday gift and called HIM on his birthday.

Her attention had meant so much to Jim that for the first time in years, he had picked up the phone to make a call of his own on Mother's Day, and it hadn't been to Winona.

A part of him debated telling his mother that these days, he could count on two hands the number of people who cared about him more than she did.

"I suppose being on TV attracts the ladies, too," Winona joked weakly.

Jim could hear Bones' voice in his head indignantly saying,  _Oh, for the love of …_ Instead, he opened the box on the coffee table and examined the contents, picking a cookie sitting on top and taking a big bite to avoid having to talk.

Out of habit, Jim savored the flavor for a moment, trying to determine what the ingredients were. He swallowed and considered the after-taste. The cookie had a slightly sweet essence to it, a light, nutty flavor.

A nutty flavor.

"Mom, what's in these?" he asked. Already it was getting harder to breathe, but was it his allergy to tree nuts or just paranoia?

Winona scrunched her brow. "I don't know. The bakery is a gluten-free one. Why? Don't you like it?"

"Are there nuts in here?" he asked insistently, breaths already quickening.

"Well, there aren't any peanuts. I know that," she said defensively.

Jim's heart sank as he realized his mother had failed to remember that his nut allergy extended to tree nuts. He was almost 100% certain there had been almond flour or almond flavoring in those cookies.

Another thought added to his panic: Bones wasn't here. The man would know what to do. Jim wasn't sure he could rely on his mother to help him.

Jim fought to keep himself calm, just as Spock had taught him in dealing with his anxiety. Now, where was his epi-pen? Already his mind was racing and concentration was difficult, but Jim was able to focus enough to remember that he had one in his bag by the front door. Gasping, he stumbled to it and began to dig frantically though the bag. Scrambling through the contents to no avail, he tipped everything out onto the floor. Breathing was becoming extremely challenging. He  _had_  to find that epi-pen.

Blindly he felt through everything on the floor until his fingers closed around something that felt right. Scarcely able to see or think, Jim was just able to make out which end held the needle. Not caring about risking infection by sticking the needle through fabric but just wanting to breathe, Jim jammed it into this thigh without removing his jeans.

After what felt like ages, the tightness in his chest eased slightly. Jim became aware enough to realize that he had toppled over at some point and was lying curled up on the floor, the used epi-pen still clasped in his fist. However, he was also aware that the epi-pen wasn't enough; that he wasn't recovering as well as he should be.

Jim ignored his mother's questions about what was happening and reached for his phone that was lying on the floor. He fumbled with it several times before his fingers grasped it. With far greater difficulty than it should have taken, he dragged the phone up to his face. "Call Bones," he managed to choke out.

By some miracle, the phone understood him. However, panic returned a moment later when Bones' phone went directly to voice mail. The thought crossed Jim's mind that this hurdle might prove fatal.

However, he didn't believe in no-win scenarios. Breathing was once again becoming difficult, and Jim could feel himself losing consciousness. With what little awareness he had left, Jim dialed 911. In the few seconds that it took for the operator to answer, Jim discovered he could no longer respond. Moments later, the phone slipped from his fingers.

~oOoOoOoOo~

As soon as Christine Chapel saw who had just arrived in the ambulance, she directed the gurney into the ER and shouted at an intern to find Pike.

"We're lucky we got there when we did," one of the EMTs said, shaking her head. "The epi-pen he used bought him some time, but not much. We barely got him intubated."

The medical staff leaped into action and soon had the patient hooked up to a respirator. Moments later, Pike ran into the room and had immediately began issuing orders.

"With his allergies, I didn't dare have one of the interns deal with him," Christine told Pike a few minutes later after they had Jim stabilized.

Pike shook his head fondly. "That kid never does things the easy way."

Christine sighed. "I'd better let Leonard know. God forbid anyone else take care of Jim."

"In the meantime, tell him I'll use my measly medical skills to keep an eye on the kid," Pike said.

Christine snagged her phone from the nurses' station and first tried calling Leonard. She wasn't surprised when it went straight to voice-mail. The man had just gotten off of a very long shift and had probably collapsed the moment he had arrived home. Since there was no way he was any shape to take care of anyone at that point, he'd probably turned off his cell phone to allow him to sleep.

Chewing on her lip, Christine considered her options. Calling up Jim's chart, she was relieved to see that after Leonard, Hikaru Sulu was still named as an emergency contact. She immediately dialed the phone.

"Hello? Hikaru Sulu speaking," said a professional voice.

"Sulu, it's Christine Chapel from the hospital. I work with Leonard McCoy," she said.

"Christine!" Sulu said in recognition. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" However, a moment later something in her tone registered. "Wait. It's Jim, isn't it?"

"Yes," Christine said reluctantly. "He's just been brought into the ER. He's had a bad allergic reaction."

"Is he all right?" Sulu asked.

The nurse sighed. "He should be, but it was close."

"Is McCoy reading him the riot act?" Sulu asked.

 _Oh, if only_. "Um, it's a bit worse than that," she said.

"Shit," Sulu hissed. "I'll get there as soon as I can and let the others know."

"Would you mind getting ahold of Leonard?" Christine begged. "He just got off of work and his phone is off. I can't get ahold of him."

"I'm on it," Sulu said. They said their good-byes and hung up. Sulu thought for a moment, then dialed Nyota's number.

"Hello?" a quiet voice murmured. Oops, she'd been sleeping.

"Uhura, sorry to wake you," Sulu said, "but we've got a problem."

Nyota cleared her throat and immediately sounded more awake. "What's he done this time?"

Amused that everyone always assumed (rightfully) that the problem was Jim, he filled her in. Her sharp intake of breath let him know she was as worried as he was.

"I'm headed over there now, but I was wondering if you guys could stop and let McCoy know," he told her.

Nyota sighed. "Coward. You just don't want to have to wake up Leonard McCoy."

"You guys live closer to him than I do," Sulu argued, but his answer sounded weak even to his ears.

"You owe me big time," she said firmly.

"Yes, I do," Sulu agreed.

"Go be with Jim. Update us when you can. We'll get there as soon as possible," she said.

After hanging up, Nyota looked at Spock. "Jim's in the hospital. It's our lucky day because we get to go wake up McCoy."

"What have we done to deserve this punishment?" Spock asked with a straight face. Nyota laughed and kissed him on the cheek. Within minutes, they were out the door.

~oOoOoOoOo~

It was true that Nyota and Spock lived closer to McCoy than Sulu did, and it did not take long to arrive. A few houses in the neighborhood still had lights on, but McCoy's was one of the dark houses on the block. However, he was clearly home as his car was parked in the driveway.

They walked up the front porch and rang the doorbell. After a second attempt and no answer, Nyota used the small flashlight on her keychain to start examining the flowerbed by the side of the stairs, jumping down into the dirt when she spotted something.

Spock watched her. "Nyota, what are you doing?"

She stood up a moment later, triumphantly, with a rock in her hand. "I remember Kirk making fun of McCoy one time because he had hidden his spare key in one of those fake rocks by the front door. I guess it pays to eavesdrop on people," she said, sashaying past Spock to slide the key into the lock and open the door.

Spock felt around on the wall until he found a light switch. The living room was bathed in a soft glow. Leonard had obviously kicked off his shoes by the front door and dropped his keys beside them along with his bag, forming a trail through the living room toward the stairs. From what Sulu had said, the doctor had worked a long day and was probably exhausted. No wonder there was still no sound from elsewhere in the house, even when Nyota called out the doctor's name.

She had only been upstairs a couple of times in order to use the bathroom when the group had gathered at Leonard's house. Turning on lights as they went, Spock and Nyota managed to find their way up the stairs. "Leonard?" Nyota called again. There was still no answer, but this time her excellent hearing picked up soft snores coming from a room down the hall.

In the light from the hallway, she could see Leonard passed out on top of the covers, still in his scrubs. While Spock entered the room, Nyota felt around for the light switch and flicked it on.

"Dt. McCoy," Spock said more loudly, standing by the side of the bed. This time the doctor jumped.

After a few choice curses that had Spock raising his eyebrow, Leonard was awake enough to recognize who was in his room. "What fresh hell is this?" he asked with a gravelly voice. "How did you get into my house?"

"Believe me, Doctor. It is not our choice to be here," Spock said.

"Sorry, Leonard," Nyota said apologetically, coming around from behind Spock. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

Leonard sighed. "What's he done now?" He couldn't help but lie back down on the comfortable bed.

"He's in the hospital. He had an allergic reaction to something," Nyota said.

"Hmm," Leonard murmured. "I work a' th'hospital."

Nyota felt terrible because the man was obviously so tired that he was nearly asleep again, but she knew he would want to be at the hospital even if he wasn't in any state to take care of anyone. "Leonard McCoy, wake up!" she bellowed.

The doctor jumped up again with a "Whaaa..?" and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"He's in no shape to drive," she said over McCoy's head to Spock. "We'll give him a ride." Spock did not argue.

The poor guy was so tired that Nyota had to hand him an Ol' Miss hoodie and coax him into putting on his shoes. The doctor was a sight in scrubs and horrendous bedhead as he stumbled out to the car. Nyota still wasn't convinced he was aware of what was happening, so she made sure to grab his bag and keys, noticing his phone charging next to the door at the last moment and throwing that in, as well. He probably had extra clothes at the hospital if he needed them.

Using her newly-purloined key, Nyota locked up. McCoy was already asleep in the back seat by the time she got into the car. "It would appear that the doctor is in need of rest," Spock observed wryly.

Nyota laughed quietly and dialed Sulu to get an update and let him know that no injuries had occurred while corralling one recalcitrant doctor.

~oOoOoOoOo~

"Do we know why the idiot nearly killed himself?" McCoy asked half an hour later, arms crossed firmly over his chest. Jim's crew stood at his shoulders. Thankfully, McCoy had been much more coherent when waking upon their arrival at the hospital, although slightly confused about how he'd ended up in the back seat of Spock and Nyota's car. He'd made an attempt at finger-combing his hair, but he still looked slightly disheveled.

"He hasn't been awake yet to tell me," Pike said. Both doctors frowned. That was not good.

Leonard sighed. "Can I go in and check on him?"

Pike took in McCoy's appearance. "Of course, and you can keep these guys updated. But you're not in any state to be treating him," he said pointedly.

"No doctoring. Got it," Leonard said, then headed through the double-doors with Pike.

"Surely the reaction couldn't have been that bad if he managed to call for an ambulance," Leonard said quietly to Pike once they had passed down a hallway.

Pike sighed. "He used one epi-pen, but it wasn't enough. Apparently, he managed to dial but couldn't talk; the EMTs said the operator could just hear gasping. It's lucky that there was a woman there to let them in."

McCoy stopped for a second. "If someone else was with him, why wasn't she in the waiting room?"

"Maybe he was on a date or something?" Pike asked, shrugging.

Leonard grunted but didn't agree. As far as he knew, Gaila was the only woman Jim saw with any frequency, and that woman would have had the presence of mind to call 911 and ride to the hospital with him. Actually, she probably would have prevented him from eating something he was allergic to in the first place.

But there was another woman who had arrived in Jim's life lately…

Tamping down any ill will, Leonard strode into Jim's room and immediately began checking monitors. "Damnit, kid," he muttered as he looked at Jim's chart and sat down to wait.

~oOoOoOoOo~

To Leonard's relief, it had taken mere minutes after his arrival for Jim to regain consciousness. The antihistamines had obviously done their work, but the chef still looked like crap.

"Hey, Jim," Leonard said gently once the nurses had finished removing the breathing tube. "How are you feeling?"

Jim looked around himself, a bit dazed, before turning his head toward the voice. "Bones," he croaked out through a sore throat.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," the doctor said jokingly to hide his relief. "You were only nearly dead."

At this point, doctors typically asked a series of questions to determine the patient's neurological state. Leonard figured Pike would get to it in a moment, so instead he asked, "Feeling any more homicidal or power-hungry than normal?"

Jim huffed a laugh. "No more than usual, Bones."

While Pike checked on Jim, Leonard updated Jim's crew on his status. Everyone but Spock looked relieved, although Spock's shoulders did settle slightly at Leonard's news.

"Darlin', it wasn't you with him when the medics arrived, was it?" he asked Gaila, who now stood between Sulu and Uhura.

She shook her head, nervously twisting a red curl around her finger. "No, I'd just gone to bed when Sulu called me."

"You know," she said a moment later, with uncharacteristic shyness. "There was a woman in the restaurant last night or the night before. She talked to Jim for a little while. He was in a bad mood before but even angrier after that, but he had me give her the meal for free."

"Curly blonde hair?" Leonard asked, his heart sinking but already knowing the answer. Gaila nodded.

"Damn it," he muttered, turning back toward Jim's room and leaving the others to figure it out.

"You might as well go home and get some rest and come back at a decent hour," he called over his shoulder, not waiting to see if they heeded his advice.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Jim was sleeping when Leonard arrived back at his room.

"He's fine. It scared him, but he'll be fine," Pike told him.

Even though he'd already reported to the crew, he found that even he needed reassurance from someone else. Leonard nodded and went to take a seat by Jim's bed. As soon as he sat, his long shift and interrupted sleep caught up with him. Within moments, his head was pillowed by his arms on the side of Jim's bed and he was fast asleep.

He most definitely  _did not_ hold Jim's hand in his sleep.

Sometime later, he was awakened by coughing. Leonard immediately shot up and grabbed the Styrofoam cup by the side of the bed, helping Jim sit up to take a drink. Surely this wouldn't be too much doctoring for Pike's delicate sensibilities right now.

"Not too fast," Leonard coaxed as Jim finally got the coughing under control. With Leonard's help, he lay back with a sigh.

"Jim, what happened?" he asked gently. He figured if Jim didn't want to answer, he'd pretend to be asleep and they would act as though this moment never happened.

The chef sighed. His voice was quiet because of his sore throat, but Leonard clearly heard him say, "My mom came over."

Leonard sighed inwardly, not wanting Jim to mistake it for disapproval.

"She brought some cookies. I should have known better, but I just wanted to not have to talk to her, you know? All she could do was shrug her shoulders and say, 'But there weren't peanuts in it'."

Jim sniffled. "Bones, I think she forgot I was allergic to more than just peanuts."

At that moment, Leonard struggled to keep his face neutral as fury coursed through him. How could that woman call herself Jim's mother? Leonard couldn't imagine forgetting any little detail about Joanna, especially any life-threatening allergies she might have. If that had happened, he would have made himself into a world-class expert on what she could and couldn't eat.

Instead of venting about Winona, though, he sat down on the edge of the hospital bed of his best friend – his tired, sick, scared, heart-broken best friend. Haltingly, Jim told Leonard about some of the things Winona had said to him during her visit. This was just the most recent layer added on to a lifetime of complacency.

Mindful of the IVs and nasal cannula, Leonard hugged Jim close and tried not to let his own heart break for his friend's pain as Jim sobbed into his shoulder.

It was one of those moments in their friendship that they, by silent agreement, would never speak about ever again.

Finally, Leonard sighed. "I can't even get a decent night's sleep without you having to go and get yourself sick," he grumbled.

Despite himself, Jim chuckled as he lay back against his pillows.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Sulu stuck his head into Jim's hospital room, where Jim was half-asleep while Leonard sat beside the bed with legs outstretched, updating medical charts. Jim was having difficulty recovering from his allergic reaction this time around, so Pike and Leonard had decided to keep him in the hospital longer than originally planned. The fact that Jim hadn't complained was a bit concerning for both doctors.

"Hey, McCoy, can I borrow you for a sec?" he asked.

Jim turned his head toward Sulu's voice but otherwise didn't stir. Leonard set down his paperwork gently on his chair and joined Jim's agent at the door.

Sulu nodded down the hallway. "Nyota and Spock are bringing Mrs. Kirk up. I thought maybe you could fill her in before she came in to see him."

For a moment, Leonard was shocked into silence. "They're doing WHAT?" he hissed at the somewhat confused man.

"No," a rough voice said behind them. "Please, no!"

Even speaking in low tones, Jim had overheard them and was becoming agitated. Leonard shoved Sulu out the door, growling with clenched teeth, "Get Pike NOW and DO NOT let that woman in here." One glance at the stormy look on McCoy's face and the younger man scooted down the hallway.

"Bones!" Jim said, struggling to sit up. "Please, no!"

Leonard strode across the room and put a hand on Jim's shoulder, partly to keep him in place and partly to reassure him.

"Don't worry, kid. She won't set foot in here," he said.

However, Jim had already worked himself into a panic and didn't seem to hear Leonard's reassurances.

Leonard kept up a steady commentary to Jim. "Come on, kid. Breathe in and out nice and slow," he said as he grabbed the oxygen mask from the corner of the bed. "Deep breaths now."

Jim still wasn't settling, so Leonard leaned over and placed the mask over Jim's face. As he did so, Jim grabbed his wrist and looked at him with pleading eyes. The similar feeling of the panic attack to his difficulties with breathing in the allergic reaction less than 24 hours earlier only made the chef panic more.

Pike strode in while Leonard was trying to calm down Jim, to no avail. Sharing a look over the top of the kid's head, Pike nodded and disappeared. A moment later he returned and injected something into Jim's IV line. Within a minute, the man's breathing had slowed down and his eyes began to flutter shut.

"It's okay, kid. I gotcha," Leonard said as he helped Jim lie back on the pillows. The younger man's hand slipped from where it had gripped the doctor's wrist. Once Jim was settled back, Leonard moved his arm into a more comfortable position and gave it a squeeze.

"No one's getting in here without my say-so," he said gruffly, turning toward the door. The tiniest of smiles graced Jim's face as he finally drifted under.

Meanwhile, Leonard McCoy headed out on the warpath.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Leonard stalked into the waiting area. Sulu had been as good as his word, holding the visitor there. Seeing Leonard approaching with a look that could melt steel, Sulu quietly shrank back behind the rest of the group.  _Smart man_ , Leonard thought.

Nyota and Spock flanked the same woman with curly blonde hair who had been at the taping. Jim looked almost nothing like her aside from his coloring. While she stood confidently, almost defiantly, the knuckles gripping her purse strap were nearly white with tension.

"Are you his doctor?" she asked. Showed how well she knew her son. It was like she hadn't spent a couple of hours watching Jim tape his show the other day.

"Yes," he said simply. She was going to have to work for anything she got from him.

"Is he okay?" she asked, clearly becoming annoyed.

"He'll live," Leonard said. Even though this woman had a genetic right to updates on Jim's condition, loyalty to his friend kept him from saying more.

Winona raised her chin. "May I see him?"

Leonard drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. "No."

Winona stepped closer. "Doctor, I am his mother. I have a right to see my son."

Leonard didn't flinch but stared directly back at her. The anger he had felt earlier on Jim's behalf returned. "I think you and I both know that you lost the right to call yourself his mother a long time ago."

In the corners of his vision, he could see Nyota's jaw drop and Spock stand even straighter and look at him with disbelief. Someone gasped. In any other situation, he would probably be shocked at his own actions. His mother certainly hadn't raised him to be this way, but at the moment he couldn't care less. He seemed to make a lot of exceptions for Jim Kirk.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Leonard said in a slightly gentler voice, "Let me walk you out."

Without a word, he led Winona back down the hallway to the elevators. She walked beside him quietly. He was slightly surprised that she didn't argue with him, but he was certain his comment had hit home because they both knew it was true. Right now, Leonard's priority was protecting Jim, not saving his absentee-mother's feelings.

They rode all of the way down in awkward silence, both staring at the scuffed silver doors of the elevator. They reached the ground floor and Winona stepped out, still looking slightly shell-shocked as she trudged toward the exit of the hospital.

Leonard leaned against the doors of the elevator, holding them open. "If Jim does decide to contact you once he's feeling better, you had better answer that message faster than you've ever answered one before," he said in a conversational tone. "He doesn't deserve to be treated like this." He left out the part about his own mother being more of a maternal figure to Jim than Winona was.

Winona turned and gave him a weak smile. "I'm glad Jim has people like you looking out for him," she said, before turning and making her way out of the building. Maybe she had understood what he hadn't said, after all.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Leonard let himself rest against the wall of the elevator on the way back up to Jim's floor, preparing himself for the next battle. Between work and sitting with his sick friend, he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep since Jim's brush with death. He took a calming breath in the solitude of the lift; he was weary, but his day wasn't over yet.

He could see Nyota's back as she stood stiffly in the waiting area on Jim's floor. Her eyes flashed in anger when she turned at his approach. However, she did not say anything until Leonard had rejoined the group.

"What the hell was that, Leonard?" she hissed through a clenched jaw, arms crossed over her chest.

"Indeed," Spock added in a tone that was fairly indignant for him. "Winona Kirk should have been allowed to see her own son."

Leonard felt a bit of his anger returning, but he couldn't find it in himself to chew out the director of Jim's show. He knew that Spock had lost his mother in an accident not long before Leonard and Jim had met. Although Leonard might call Spock an 'emotionless computer' and 'a hobgoblin' fairly regularly, he knew that the man missed his mother. She had been the warm, expressive one of the family. According to Jim, Spock's father was even more stoic and emotionally repressed than Spock was, as hard as that was to imagine.

Leonard sighed, trying to keep his voice low despite emotions wanting to spill out of his chest. Although they had known Jim longer than he had, it seemed that Leonard was the one who knew more about Jim's early life.

"Right now, Jim is in there sleeping," he said, frustrated, as he poked a finger in the direction of Jim's hospital room. "Not natural sleep. We had to sedate him because he was so freaked out about his mom coming that he had a massive panic attack – just over a day after he nearly died of asphyxiation. As you can imagine, that's not ideal."

"He needs to speak with his mother!" Nyota said stubbornly.

"Does he?" Leonard asked rhetorically. "Because she never seems to give a shit about him any other time. She took nearly a day to come and visit him. She's the one who nearly goddamn killed him. What kind of mother forgets that there are certain foods that her own son is deathly allergic to? The last thing Jim needs right now is to deal with her while he's cornered in a hospital bed, and she's the one who put him there. If he's going to talk to her, he deserves to be able to do it on his terms."

The others stood silently, Sulu's jaw hanging slightly open, at McCoy's rant. He couldn't find it in himself to care if he had offended them. He was pissed off for both himself and Jim right now. Without another word, Leonard spun on his heel and headed toward Jim's room. He hoped the others had enough sense not to follow.

~oOoOoOoOo~

For what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past day (was it only a day?), Leonard watched Jim Kirk wake up. The damn kid took him time, disoriented as he slowly blinked awake.

"Hey," Leonard said from where he sat at the man's side. He reached for a Styrofoam cup of water on the side table and offered the straw to the sick man.

Jim seemed to relax fractionally and become more aware when he realized that McCoy was at his side. He took a couple of sips, then lay back, already tired again.

"Hey," he croaked before coughing. Leonard offered him more water.

"My chest hurts," Jim mumbled.

"Is it just sore?" Leonard asked, reaching toward the foot of Jim's bed for his chart. It was probably sore muscles from Jim's distress, but he didn't want to miss anything more serious.

The chef nodded, and Leonard pulled back, leaving the chart in its holder. It wasn't surprised that the chef would feel like crap for a while, but there was no lasting damage done.

At least, no physical damage was done.

As if reading Jim's mind, Leonard decided to put him more at ease. "Don't worry, kid. If they ever try a stunt like that again, I'll rip their heads off," Leonard said conversationally.

Jim cracked a small smile. "Something tells me you already did. Do they still have all of their body parts?"

Leonard grinned. He hadn't said as much to the crew, but he was pretty sure a painful outcome if they ever tried to pull this shit again was implied in his rant.

"Think you're feeling up to blowing this popsicle stand and heading home?" the doctor asked instead.

Jim visibly perked up.

"I'd say we should wait to release you until after you'd eaten, but the shit that the hospital calls food will probably make you feel worse," Leonard said.

"You're not wrong," Jim said. "Do you think the hospital would let me help redesign the menu sometime?"

"I'll ask them, but let's leave that for another day," Leonard answered. He could already see the wheels turning in Jim's mind. Maybe it would give the chef something positive to think about while he was convalescing.

After throwing some spare clothes at Jim's head and telling him to get dressed without falling over, Leonard went to find a doctor who was allowed to sign off on Jim's release.

~oOoOoOoOo~

For all of Jim's talk about needing to catch up on things when he got home, Leonard didn't have to try too hard to convince him that he needed to rest. After dumping Jim in bed, the doctor quickly drove to his own house to pick up some spare clothing and then to a restaurant that had Jim-friendly food to pick up some soup. He returned to find Jim still breathing and fast asleep.

Satisfied that Jim wasn't currently dying, Leonard wandered around the chef's apartment tidying up. In the living room, he came across the white bakery box still full of cookies, its top wide open.

Normally, Leonard enjoyed sweet things as much as anyone, but the thought of this innocent box of pastries nearly killing his best friend turned his stomach. He quickly gathered it up and marched it to the dumpster outside. He may have slammed the lid of the dumpster open with slightly more force than necessary.

Coming back in, he noticed the mess sitting underneath the bags that he and Jim had dumped by the door upon their return home. Jim's messenger bag, which he had with him almost any time he was out, had been thrown upside-down into the corner. Leonard gathered up the debris littering the floor: a pen, some napkins with writing scrawled on them, a pair of tangled headphones, Jim's wallet, and shoved everything back into Jim's bag.

Next to the wallet lay a plastic cap that, as a doctor, Leonard immediately identified as coming from an epi-pen. He sat down heavily and turned the cap over in his hands. A lump formed in his throat as he finally allowed himself to think about exactly how close it had been for Jim. If the paramedics had taken even a minute or two longer to arrive, Jim might have been beyond saving. Leonard might have been cleaning out his friend's apartment for good right now.

Anger flared again as he thought about the woman responsible. What had she been thinking as she watched her son collapse, struggling to draw in air? A bitter part of him hoped it haunted her dreams.

He briefly considered going back outside to the dumpster to set fire to the box of cookies, but it would do no good. The fire department had better things to do with their time.

Leonard lost track of how long he sat staring at the mess on the floor and absently fiddling with the plastic cap. Eventually, the sound of movement from the bedroom drew his attention.

"Bones?" Jim asked sleepily, apparently from the kitchen. Leonard dragged himself to his feet and went to find the chef.

"How ya feelin'?" he asked as Jim yawned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Jim's answering grunt said it all.

Leonard grabbed his wrist to feel for his pulse. "Booones!" Jim whined.

Leonard had to admit that he wasn't paying attention to the numbers he was counting automatically. He just needed to know that Jim was alive. "Fine," he said, dropping Jim's wrist in exasperation after feeling a steady pulse. "You want some real food now?"

Jim patted his shoulder. "You know, Bones. You'll make a great mother hen someday."

Leonard didn't attempt to control his eyeroll.

"Hey, speaking of mothers, when is yours due in?" Jim asked casually as he poked around his kitchen.

Leonard froze.

At his silence, Jim turned around and broke into a large grin. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Leonard rubbed a hand over his face. His mother was due to arrive from Georgia that afternoon, something he'd completely forgotten in the turmoil of the past couple of days.

"This is all your fault," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Jim.

Jim's grin grew wider. "Whatever you say, Bones." The sheer panic on the man's face had nearly made up for the shitshow of the past few days.

Bones grumbled and slammed his way around Jim's kitchen, heating some soup for Jim after telling the chef to 'sit down and shut up before you fall over'. Amused, Jim sat watching the doctor who insisted not only on preparing food for him, but also on bitching about it the entire time.

After confirming that the flight was on time and that he had indeed missed an earlier text from his mother, Leonard grabbed his jacket and keys from the counter.

"Don't die while I'm out," he said, stabbing a finger at Jim.

Jim put his hands up defensively. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Leonard snorted and shouted, "I'll be back," as he marched out the door.

"That sounded more like a threat than a promise," Jim said out loud to the empty room.

~oOoOoOoOo~

"I wasn't sure you were going to be there, sweetheart," Eleanor McCoy told her son as he drove away from the airport after picking her up. He had made it there on time, thank you very much.

"Mom, if nothing else, you know my address and where the spare key is," he said, feeling like an exasperated teenager.

"Of course I do," she said lightly. "But it is so much more fun to hassle you about it."

Did parents spend their time plotting payback on their adult children because their work raising a child was done, or what?

Leonard filled his mother in on the events of the past few days.

"Oh, that poor boy," Eleanor said.

"Is it all right if we stop by his place and make sure he's still alive before we head home?" he asked.

"Of course!" she said. "Let's stop by the grocery store, first, though."

Less than two hours after he left, Leonard once again parked in front of Jim's building. He carried a couple of bags of groceries as he led his mother into the building.

They entered Jim's apartment to find him dozing on the couch. As much as Leonard was joking with his comments, he was happy to see that Jim was still breathing. At least he'd managed to keep himself alive and actually do something sensible, Leonard thought. They left Jim to wake up on his own and headed toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Bones. Hi, Eleanor," Jim mumbled as he wandered after them, the folds of his pillow leaving red lines on his face.

"Oh, Jim, you poor dear. Come here," Eleanor ordered. She gave Jim a hug that was longer and tighter than the one he had received at the airport, Leonard thought. He didn't mind, though. If anyone needed a mother's hug right now, it was Jim. He noticed that the chef didn't seem to mind one bit.

Eleanor fussed over Jim for a moment, sitting him down at the breakfast bar and patting his hair as she told him to just relax. Much to Jim's amusement, she then began ordering Leonard around the kitchen as she started cooking.

"Momma," Leonard whined as she told Jim about the soup she used to make Leonard when he was sick as a child, which quickly devolved into stories of his childhood. Eleanor completely ignored Leonard's protests. Jim had a big grin on his face at his friend's discomfort. Traitor.

"I hate everybody," Leonard grumbled.

"Sure, Bones," Jim said cheerfully, while Leonard's mother patted him on the shoulder and said, "Yes, dear."

And that was how Jim Kirk, chef extraordinaire, came to eat home-cooked Georgian soup at his own table, both the soup and the kindness of the family who chose him warming his heart.

~oOoOoOoOo~

Leonard stood next to the refrigerator, drink in hand, when the doorbell rang. Deciding that he could leave a professional chef unsupervised in his kitchen for a few moments, he pulled open the door to find Sulu dragging a surprisingly docile Chekov behind him. Leonard recognized the same strung-out look in the young Russian that he and his classmates had sported when he was in med school.

Sensing that Sulu wanted to speak to him, Leonard gave Chekov a gentle push toward the kitchen. "There's food in there," he said pointedly. Obediently, Chekov trudged forward.

Leonard turned back to Sulu with a raised eyebrow. Sulu shrugged.

"I thought maybe you could talk to him since you understand what he's going through," Sulu said. "He's kind of overwhelmed and exhausted right now. He needed to get out for a while."

Leonard could certainly sympathize with the kid, and he had been several years older when he had gone through the med school wringer. Still, he couldn't pass up the chance to hassle Sulu. "Being responsible for the well-being of one infant named Jim wasn't enough, so you had to go get yourself another?"

Sulu shrugged in a way that suggested,  _Well, you know how it is. These things happen_.

After the poor Russian had been fed and watered and fussed over by Nyota and the rest of the crew, Leonard went over to talk to him as he sprawled across one end of the couch in exhaustion.

"How's it goin', kid?" he asked.

Chekov groaned in response before launching into a laundry list of projects, exams, and placements, his Russian accent even heavier than usual. "… and I need a chemistry project that includes medical research, but my brain is too tired to think of anything."

Leonard looked up at the kitchen, where Jim was carefully sniffing something before he took a delicate nibble. Ever since this latest allergic reaction, Jim had been exceedingly cautious about what he ate.  _As if I would bring in any food that he's allergic to_ , thought Leonard.

Then inspiration struck. "Hey, kid, I think I've got an idea for your project."

~oOoOoOoOo~

"Here, this is for you," Bones said, striding in and tossing a small box on top of the paperwork on Jim's desk. He was dressed in his scrubs and had obviously stopped by Enterprise on his way to work.

Jim removed the rubber band and opened the top. The inside was full of strips of paper.

"Gee, Bones, you shouldn't have," he said, amused.

"Damn straight I should have," Bones growled. "It's something that Spock, Chekov, and I came up with. Hopefully, they should work as a sort of litmus test to see if there are nuts present in whatever you're eating. If they're there, the paper will change color and a word or symbol will appear. This is just a prototype."

"So, it's like a pregnancy test for nuts?" Jim asked.

Bones looked at him, unimpressed. "Yes, Jim. Exactly like that," he said dryly. "I just wish I could make some sort of magical scanner that a person could just wave over the food to see if it was safe."

Then another thought struck Jim. "Wait, Spock helped you with this?"

Bones shrugged. "He double-majored in Philosophy and Astrophysics and minored in Chemistry."

"Aww, Bones, you voluntarily spent time with Spock!" Jim crowed.

"I wasn't trying to spend time with the robot," Bones growled. "Chekov got a class project out of it, Spock got to play with chemistry, Nyota got some time to herself, and hopefully I won't have to deal with you almost dying every other day. We all got something out of it."

Jim laughed at the rant, choosing to interpret it as,  _Jim, we all love you very much_. He looked at the box again. "Seriously, you guys  _invented_ these?"

Bones shrugged. "Sure. About time someone did. I can't believe it hasn't been done before."

Jim's jaw dropped. "No way! Bones, you're going to be rich!"

"No, I'm not," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "We didn't patent it.

"It's on file so no one else can patent it and profit from it," the doctor explained, "but this way it's a lot cheaper so, hopefully, everyone in the world who needs them will be able to get them."

Jim was not the least bit surprised at this news.

After reiterating, loudly, that his initial impression of Leonard had been right – the doctor really was a teddy bear with a prickly shell and a gooey marshmallow center – and the doctor equally loudly threatening Jim with surprisingly specific promises of bodily harm if he kept spreading that rumor, they parted ways for their respective jobs.

Jim grinned all evening as he thought of the box on his desk. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. At least he could blame his moist eyes and runny nose on the onions.

He and Gaila went over to Spock and Nyota's house after work, eager to see whether Bones and company's invention worked.

Nyota banned him from the kitchen while she dabbed peanut butter on a strip. In the living room, Jim slouched on the couch while Spock sat more upright in a nearby chair. "So, Bones tells me that you two worked on this project," Jim said.

"Indeed," Spock said. "It was a worthwhile endeavor and gave Mr. Chekov the project he required for his coursework. It was also pleasing to work in a chemistry lab once again."

"I'll bet you and Bones had a great time together," Jim chided him jokingly.

"'Great' may be too strong a word," Spock responded with a hint of a smile. "However, the doctor is a very intelligent man, and it was an honor to work with him."

"Aww, you'll be besties yet!" Jim crowed.

Spock took a deep breath, ready to launch into a rebuttal, when Nyota and Gaila returned from the kitchen, both laughing. "Here," Nyota said, shoving her phone into Jim's hand.

To avoid exposing Jim to nuts, she had taken a photo of the results. The litmus paper had turned from a light blue to pink. Words were visible, so he zoomed in on the photo.

 _Are you feeling lucky, punk?_  appeared in tiny letters.

"I assure you, this is merely a prototype," Spock insisted.

Meanwhile, Jim couldn't wipe the smile from his face as the others set up a movie. Yep, between the friends here with him and the one who was working late at the hospital, he was indeed feeling lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> * The whole Ryan Reynolds headshot thing recently happened to Chris Pine in real life.
> 
> A/N: So I spent a lot of time debating how to portray Winona Kirk in the story. Fan fic portrayals range from a cold woman who doesn't even acknowledge her son to a warm mother who tries her best to right past wrongs. I chose to go somewhere in the middle - a woman who wants a better relationship with her son, but realizes that he grew up when she wasn't looking, and that she doesn't know him at all. Now, she's at a loss. In my mind, this is due in large part to having never dealt properly with her husband's death, something for which her son has paid dearly.


End file.
